Page:Pictures In Rhyme.djvu/100

72 Love is called blind, and I love her—I! But my eyesight is sharpened by jealousy.

Lovers come wooing this Northern Queen; I have watched them come, I have watched them go, Seven long years, through heat, through snow, But I never saw yet what to-day I have seen. Nay, 'twas not the ball-lights' fitful glow That dazzled my sight—I saw aright That flush in a moment come and go.

I am only her fool, misshapen, thin, Sour, and old; I caper and grin, My back is humpbowed, but my mind is keen, And I sharpen my wit on the courtier-crowd. They laugh; but she only smiles—does my queen.

Ah! the closest wards own a master-key, And he is to bear her across the sea; Whilst I, her fool, must be laid on the shelf, For she wears my motley now herself— Ha! ha! ha! ha ! does the Icicle Queen.